


All Demons Are The Same

by jinxitor



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post Bad End, Slow Burn, all characters are adults, mlm author, reaper au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-23 21:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxitor/pseuds/jinxitor
Summary: Cuphead and Mugman have been working as grim reapers for the Devil for over a year now. Still weighed down by the guilt of betting both of their souls, Cuphead confides in their manager.





	1. You Ain't So Bad

When the old man heard the rapping of a playground song on his front door, he knew that Death had come. A few very still moments passed while they waited patiently for him to come let them in, and when he didn’t, there was the deafening clatter of the lock being shot off of the door. It swung open, and there stood the reapers - two young men with cups for heads, looking like overdressed casino employees: which they were.

“Hiya!” the one with the red tie said with a friendly wave. He looked a little too comfortable leaning on that scythe. “We’re here to take your soul for the devil! Sorry ‘bout the door lock; you won’t be needin’ it anyhow. I’d tell you to just let us in next time, but there won’t be a next time.”

The taller one with the blue tie quietly scanned the sheet of paper he was holding. “....Boss said he’d bring your wife back if you didn’t get the losing seven on that die roll, huh? Sorry to hear that.”

“By the looks of you, you didn’t have much longer, so don’t feel  _ too _ bad about your luck, fella.” 

“Cuphead!” 

“Sorry! Anyway, enough chit-chat. So, you wanna do this the easy way for both of us, or the way that’s equally easy for us but kinda hard for you?”

“I’ll come quietly,” said the old man, hand resting on the revolver in his coat pocket. “You boys are awfully friendly, given your job.” He took a step towards them.

“It’s just our job to collect you, not to be mean. You’ll miss us once the boss gets ahold of ya.” Cuphead held out his hand to the debtor.

The man whipped out the revolver, but couldn’t even get it into place before Cuphead snapped his fingers and shot him point-blank in the chest. 

Cuphead frowned at the crumpled body on the ground. “I always hate having to do that. Mugs, do people really think I’m that dumb? He was wearing a trenchcoat in his own house for god's sake.”

Mugman struck the name out on his list. “I don’t think you look dumb, Cup. And for what it’s worth, there’s no way he felt that. Ready to bring that soul back?”

* * *

 

Mugman handed the stack of soul contracts over to their manager, who inspected them. “Yep, that’ll be all of ‘em for now,” King Dice said. “Good work today.”

“It was boring,” Cuphead grumbled. “Just a bunch of dumb old geezers who barely put up a proper fight.” 

“We need all those souls collected, whether they’re  _ fun _ for you to go get or not,” King Dice replied curtly.

“Sorry about that, King Dice, we’ll be going,” Mugman said hurriedly, beginning to pull his brother away.

“Not so fast, you two; the casino’s awfully crowded tonight. We’ll need a hand.”

When they’d gotten away from their manager, Mugman frowned at his brother. “Cuphead, you’re getting a little too bold with him. I don’t know how much patience he has, and I don’t know what’s going to happen if he gets mad at you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cuphead sighed, kicking his feet. “It just feels like we’re the Devil’s errand boys, y’know? Go fetch some souls, Cuphead and Mugman. Go deal for some tables, Cuphead and Mugman. Bring me a drink, Cuphead and Mugman.”

“I know what you mean, but we’ve only been working for him, what, a year? To him, we may as well have started yesterday. Besides, do you really want to do a bigger job for  _ the Devil? _ ”

Had it really been a year already? Cuphead stared at the ground. Mugman never said anything about it, but he couldn’t be happy about their current situation. No one could.

“Hey, you aren’t thinking anything dumb, are you?” Mugman asked with a small smile. “Come on, let’s get to work.

* * *

 

The thing King Dice found himself thinking about most often after the cup brothers came to work for them was how utterly  _ weird _ they were. Even in terms of the strangeness of all the other residents of the Inkwell Isles, no one else seemed quite so plainly bizarre.

He knew up front about their reflexes and the mysterious finger-shooting powers, of course, wherever they’d picked all those up from. Who didn’t at that point, after they’d swept through and taken out every debtor on the Devil’s hit list? The first strange thing he’d noticed was the constantly changing contents of their heads, from cloudy white liquids to bubbling sodas, but that made sense. After all, they were cups.

Then he saw Mugman drinking from his own head out of a straw. Then he saw Cuphead yank, again,  _ his own head _ off of his shoulders and dump the contents out into the kitchen sink, then use his still functional body to refill it with water. Then he saw them both take their heads off, put them on each others’ bodies, and run around tripping over things for several minutes until Cuphead fell down headfirst with an awful crunch and stood up with a chip at his rim and a crack down his face, wincing in pain.

Except Mugman super glued his pieces back in place and he showed up the next day back to normal.

King Dice was frustrated with how much time he spent wondering about how the sane laws of the universe could possibly allow these two crimes against nature to exist. This wasn’t even starting on their personalities, which he’d had to deal with every day since he started supervising them.

Mugman was sweet and earnest, everything you could ask for in a worker, especially given the line of work he was in. He took care of lists and made sure the contracts got back to where they needed to be, since if Cuphead did it he’d almost certainly forget half the clients and lose the contracts they collected. Mugman was the type of person who’d remember how many sugars you liked in your coffee and ask how your day was going when he passed by. He could be persuaded into mischief, but on his own, he wasn’t all that likely to do anything stupid. The real issue was his younger brother.

Cuphead was loud, impulsive, and frankly a menace to the proper functioning of the casino, which made it a good thing that he was out for so much of the day collecting souls. Known for snarking rude customers, flirting with random people around the floor, and, unfortunately, for being an incredibly skillful and efficient worker, Cuphead regularly alternated between feeling like a godsend and the world’s worst headache of an employee. Sometimes, right before doing something incredibly stupid, he would make eye contact with King Dice from across the room and grin, like when your cat looks straight at you while it knocks something expensive off of a shelf.

That was only on the casino floor, though. Cuphead was an absolutely ruthless reaper, or so the rumors went, given that Dice had never seen him at work. While his brother managed the hit list, Cuphead was generally the one who actually took the soul, unless it was a difficult enough opponent that it required both of them. He hardly took it seriously was the thing. He’d bust into people’s houses, smiling and joking while he approached debtors cowering in corners, brandishing a scythe.

And that led to the most concerning thing about them at all - their emotions, or lack thereof. On a surface level, they seemed fine, but that was the problem: they were always fine. You’d think losing their souls to the Devil in eternal servitude would bother them, that going out every day as the supernatural equivalent of hitmen and reaping the souls of people who might have been their neighbors would bother them, that being trapped in this damned casino for the rest of their lives except when they were out on call would bother them, that not knowing how their poor grandfather was doing when his boys never came home would bother them. But they were fine. 

They laughed and joked at work in the casino, weren’t the least bit bothered when they were asked to go out and kill another person in their own home. Their moods never seemed to drop below mild irritation at a customer or an inconvenient request. They were fine. 

King Dice hadn’t been  _ fine _ since the day he’d lost his own soul.  _ Why were they? _

He realized he’d been just standing there, spaced out, thinking about those damned cups for far too much of his time yet again while there was work to be done. As a matter of fact, there were two fresh faces at the craps table, looking about ready to lose everything they owned. After an awfully slow day, it was a welcome sight. With a smile growing on his face, he approached the table.

* * *

Cuphead was passing out drinks to a group playing blackjack when he saw the commotion building around the craps table. Handing off the last drink, he pushed through the dense crowd and ended up right at the edge of the table next to King Dice, spectators clamoring to place their bets in the few seconds before the next roll.

The shooter was a grinning young man, tossing both dice in the air with bravado. He chucked the dice across the table, and they came out as a four and three.

“Winning sevens!” The Pass line bets were paid out while the Don’t Pass betters cursed, and the stickman shoved the dice back towards the shooter.

“How long’s he been shooting?” Cuphead asked the skeleton standing next to him over the crowd.

“The Pass betters have won five times now, and he’s still rolling. You playin’?”

“Nah, I don’t bet on new faces,” Cuphead replied. “Never seems to work out for ‘em here.” He spoke from experience.

Cuphead was more or less just here to get a look at the person who’d probably be the next he was sent to collect the soul of, but then he got a look at the one standing just behind the shooter. Another young man, cheering him on. Was that his brother?

Cuphead felt ill all of a sudden.

An office door in the back of the casino slammed open, and out came the Devil himself. A path to the table cleared for him, and he stood at the end, across from the shooter.

“So, rolling well tonight, huh, boys?” he asked, to no answer. The room was dead silent. “How’s about I place my own bet? Win this next one, and all the money in the casino’s yours. Lose it, and it’ll be your souls.”

Cuphead’s knees felt wobbly. He gripped the edge of the table to hold himself up, but his right hand brushed up against King Dice, who finally noticed Cuphead standing to his left, looking as though he was about to pass out.

Anyone who worked at the casino, and probably anyone who’d been going there long enough, knew that once the Devil stepped out of that door, the rolls were rigged. But the shooter, that  _ idiot _ , scooped up the dice in his hands and shook them like a toddler with a bag of goldfish.

His brother grabbed his shoulder and hissed, “Are you  _ crazy _ ?” but the shooter’s arm was already arcing for the toss. The dice clattered against the end of the table and Cuphead squeezed his eyes shut; he didn’t have to look to know what they said.

“Snake eyes!” the stickman called out. “Pay out for Don’t Pass betters.”

The Devil cackled and Cuphead felt the ground falling out from beneath him - until someone squeezed his arm and started pulling him away from the table. Still woozy, Cuphead dumbly followed them, stumbling like he’d forgotten how to walk. He tried to look up to see who was pulling him away, but when he opened his eyes it was too bright and he felt like he was going to keel over.

A door opened and then clicked shut and Cuphead leaned against a wall, no, a shelf, and tried to stand up straight on his weak legs. Squinting, his eyes finally started to focus and he realized he was in the back storeroom of the casino. Standing over him was….King Dice?

“Hey, Cuphead, you feelin’ alright?” King Dice asked gently.

Cuphead scowled. “Where do you get off, hauling me around like a stuffed doll?”

“Would you rather me have let you pass out and get trampled underneath the crowd?”

Cuphead stayed quiet.

“What happened to you back there?”

“....It was the same roll.”

“Huh?”

“It was the same roll on the same bet at the same table that got my brother working- I mean, my brother and me, working for the Devil for the rest of our lives.” Cuphead slumped down against the shelf and buried his head in his knees. “And it was all the shooter’s fault. His brother didn’t do anything, but they both....” He choked on a sob and tried to muffle it in his arm, but didn’t do a very good job.

King Dice had planned on this being a more straightforward conversation, where he would just let his employee go early tonight, but seeing the state he was in, that probably wasn’t how things were going to go.

“Listen, ah….” King Dice trailed off. He had no idea how to deal with this poor guy bawling on the floor of the casino storeroom because he was responsible for the eternal damnation of both himself and his brother. He was the manager of a sleazy business, not a therapist. “....I know, the Devil doesn’t play fair,” he sighed.

Cuphead lifted his head up, eyes puffy, and said with venom in his voice, “Don’t act like you’re innocent here, either. It’s  _ your _ casino. How many people have gotten their souls taken at that table? Do you even know?”

King Dice was tempted to be defensive, but remembered he was trying to calm Cuphead down, not rile him up some more. “You’re right, I’ve got no clue. But I don’t- I don’t enjoy the work I do here, Cup. I’m trapped here as much as you are.”

He was worried Cuphead would take that the wrong way, but he actually seemed to soften just a little. “What did you do to lose your soul?” he asked quietly.

King Dice hadn’t told this story to anyone before now, but what was it going to hurt? “....I was a gambler, not a businessman. I had no idea how to run this place. If it went down, all the folks who’d invested in it would be after me. I didn’t know what to do. He showed up at my door one night and asked to make a deal. And I’ve been here ever since.”

Cuphead gave him a pity smile. “That was a lot simpler than I thought it’d be, if I’m being honest with you. I bet you  _ really _ hate this place, then.”

“I do, actually. Reminds me of my failures.”

Cuphead laughed. “That makes two of us, then.”

“You’ve got a strange sense of humor, Cup.”

“Don’t I know it. My greatest prank? Rolling double ones so I could trick the Devil into hiring me.” He seemed to be cheering up a little, even if it was. In a weird way. King Dice figured that was just because, well, he was weird.

Cuphead stood up, dusting himself off. “It’s probably pretty obvious that I worry about him, huh? That he hates me for what I did to him. That’s why I try and do most of the dirty work myself. Maybe if I smile enough and do enough while he can stand in the back and check off lists, I’ll be able to make up for it someday, y’know?”

King Dice nodded. He was more thoughtful than he seemed.

Cuphead opened up the door and stepped through, poking his head back in at the last second. “And, ah, sorry for saying you’re almost as bad as the Devil. You ain’t so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tony for beta reading and also for being cool as hell!  
> Kudos, comments, and questions are always appreciated.


	2. SorrY about YesterdaY, won't haPPen aGain

Cuphead lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Although he had calmed down since the incident at the craps table earlier, now that he was alone in a quiet room with his brother, he was feeling much worse.

“Mugs?” he asked quietly.

Mugman pushed himself up a little on his elbow, squinting. “What is it, Cup?”

“Do you hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?”

“You know why.”

Mugman sighed. “Listen, Cup. It was over a year ago.”

“Over a year ago, maybe, but I ruined  _ the rest of your life _ .”

“You keep ignoring the part where you’re in the same boat.”

“Yeah, but I deserved it.”

Mugman sat all the way up. “You  _ do not _ deserve anything that’s happened to you any more than I do,” he shot back, voice shaking. “I was  _ glad _ that both of our souls got taken. I’d much rather be stuck in here with my little brother than out there wondering what the hell happened to him.”

There was a long pause. “I wish you could just be mad at me,” Cuphead said.

Mugman furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“If you were mad at me I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty about how nice you are to me all the time.”

“Cuphead, if you would actually rather I be mad at you, you’re insane.”

Cuphead rolled over in bed. “Yeah, I know.” It was an awkward end to an unfinished conversation, but he didn’t know what else to say.

* * *

 

“Cup, are you sure you don’t need any help with that?” Mugman called out to his brother, wincing as he saw Cuphead take a hit straight in the face and go skidding a good ten yards back back across the polished floor of the ballroom.

“For the last time, I’m  _ fine _ !” Cuphead growled and stood up straight. The last debtor of today was the boss of a local mafia, and they’d been expecting a normal guy, maybe with a real gun, but not a 15-foot tall monster.  Cuphead insisted on taking him on himself anyway. As he was busy waving at Mugman to stay where he was, Cuphead got slammed by a tail as thick as a tree trunk and flung into the back wall of the room, sending shattered bits of drywall flying in all directions.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Mugman muttered, hopping over the overturned table he’d been hiding behind. The other mafiosa just stood and watched - sure, this was a reception where they were all here, and sure, that was their boss, but who wanted to go tangle with some grim reapers, even ones currently getting their asses beat? 

“Mugs, didn’t I just tell you-”

“Cup, just learn to accept help, would you?” Mugman yanked his little brother’s sorry self out of the hole in the wall and gave him a quick hug. “Just hang back for now, you’re hurt pretty badly.”

Cuphead tried to protest, but it was true. He’d almost definitely broken something and was having a hard time just standing up. He crouched down behind a wall of mobsters, whose eyes were all on Mugman now. 

Ducking under tables to dodge cover fire and firing back as soon as the coast was clear, Mugman made quick work of the already weakened boss. Shaking the very foundations of the building as it fell, from behind it emerged Mugman with the soul contract and a weak smile. Mugman struck the name out on his list.

Helping Cuphead back to his feet, they left while the rest of the mafiosa were too stunned to do anything about it.

“What the hell happened back there, Cups?”

Cuphead, still limping, folded his arms. “I could’a done it myself,” he grumbled.

“Cuphead. He was going to kill you and you know it. What’s the matter with you? You’re normally fine with letting me help when you need it.”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to get into it right now, alright?”

Mugman gave him a stern look. “If you do that again, we’re getting into it.”

* * *

 

The two brothers looked like they’d been run absolutely ragged by the time they got back, Cuphead in particular. Uniforms torn and singed, heads chipped and cracked. King Dice covered his mouth.

“Are you fellas doing alright?” he asked delicately, knowing damn well what the answer most likely was.

“We’re doing fine, sir,” Mugman said, handing off the contracts. “A little worse for the wear after that last one, but we’ll be alright.”

It was true, for the most part. They healed remarkably fast. Cuphead was already back to walking normally.

“Well, uh….” King Dice looked them over. “If you really think you’re fine, I won’t stop you from working tonight, but at least put on a fresh uniform. You’ll scare the customers off lookin’ like that.”

* * *

 

Cuphead passed King Dice his drink off of the tray and scurried off to deliver more orders. King Dice was just about to take a sip when he noticed the slip of paper stuck to the bottom of the glass by the condensation. He peeled the paper off and squinted at some of the most illegible handwriting he’d ever had the misfortune of looking at in his whole life. It was a scribbly, disjointed mess. Some letters were connected, some not, and what looked like random capitals were mixed into the middle of words.

After staring at it for a solid minute, he still didn’t have a damned clue about what it said. Seeing Cuphead busy with some customers at a poker table, and sensing that if he’d wanted to tell King Dice what it said, he would have said it in person, he was about to slip it into his pocket and worry about it later when he saw Mugman standing just a table away. 

“Mugman, you got any idea what this says?” King Dice asked, handing the note over to Mugman.

Mugman didn’t glance at it for half a second before he stuck it back to King Dice. “It says, ‘Sorry about yesterday, won’t happen again.’”

King Dice squinted at it again. Now that he knew what it was supposed to say, he could sort of see it.  _ SorrY about YesterdaY, won’t haPPen aGain. _ - _ CuPhead.  _ Jeez. The guy wrote like a doctor.

“Ain’t your brother ever took a handwriting class in grade school?”

“Yeah, he got in a lot of trouble over it, too. They forced him to use his right hand when he wanted to use his left, but they couldn’t stop him from capitalizing all the letters that dropped below the line so that they wouldn’t do that.” Mugman sounded surprisingly irritated by the question. “What did he mean by ‘Sorry about yesterday?’”

“Uh, he got a little shaken up by some fellas losing their souls at the craps table.” King Dice felt like he shouldn’t be telling anyone about that, but it  _ was _ Cuphead’s brother who asked.

“So  _ that’s _ what’s been bugging him,” Mugman muttered. “Thanks for telling me; he’s been acting pretty strange between last night and today. Especially when we were out collecting souls.”

“Let me know if he gets any worse, would you? I can’t have my workers having existential crises in the middle of the casino floor all the time.”

King Dice’s sad attempt at humor unfortunately seemed to be a little lost on Mugman. “Uh, will do, sir.”

* * *

 

King Dice was used to it being that the only time Cuphead made eye contact with him from across the room was when he was about to do something really stupid and terrible. He had come to dread that mischievous glimmer in his eye and the glinting grin of sharp teeth that accompanied it as being the harbinger of giving out refunds and spending a half hour lecturing his employee.

Cuphead shot a quick glance at him and a little smile, two full trays of drinks in tow. King Dice thought he was about to witness the loss of a good two hundred dollars in dishware and overpriced alcohol, but Cuphead just slid them all off on customers and headed back into the kitchen. Had King Dice imagined the smile? 

The second time that night it happened, Cuphead gave him another smile in the middle of sweeping up the floor. It wasn’t even across the room, it was more like two tables away. Was he up to something?

The next time Cuphead walked by with his hands free, which happened to be about two more benign smiles later, King Dice pulled him aside.

“What’cha need, Dice?” Cuphead asked.

“You’re being awfully....helpful, today,” Kind Dice said.

“Did you get my note?”

“I did. Had a little trouble reading it, but I appreciated the thought. Last night was no big deal, if you were that worked up about it.”

Cuphead’s face tinged red. “No big deal, huh? Guess I was overthinking it.”

“Funny, you don’t look like the type to overthink things.”

“You sayin’ I look dumb?” Cuphead scowled.

“I never said that.” King Dice was quick to change that topic. “Was being worried about the note why you were working so hard?”

Cuphead grinned. “Nah, just felt a little bad about how many times I screwed your business over before I knew you weren’t a total sleazeball.”

“Uh, thanks, Cup.”

“No prob.”

* * *

 

Mugman woke up in a cold sweat for the third night in a row. He’d had the same weird nightmare he’d been having on and off for almost a year now. Never exactly the same, but it was always the debtors. The ones he’d brought back to the Devil.  _ Do you know what we did to end up on that list? Do you think we deserved this? _

He looked over at Cuphead, who’d finally gotten to sleep. Cuphead was always the person he went to about everything, but if he told him that he’d been having nightmares the entire time they’d worked here, Cup would feel even worse about being the one who got them stuck here in the first place. Mugman was already worried about him after what happened while they’d been out collecting souls today.

Mugman hugged his knees, feeling utterly alone. Who else could he talk to about this? If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure Cuphead would even understand outside of feeling guilty if he did talk to him about it. Cuphead didn’t seem to be all that bothered by their work. In fact, it was almost like he enjoyed it. At least, when he wasn’t busy getting beaten half to death because he refused to accept any help from his partner.

Then who else was there? King Dice? Mugman didn’t get the sense their manager would be all too pleased about him showing up in the middle of the night to complain about nightmares from their job.

Mugman had an idea. A crazy, crazy idea.

Creeping quietly out of the room so as not to disturb Cuphead, Mugman wandered through the dark back hallways of the casino until he made it out to the playing floor. He’d never seen it so dark, so empty. He smiled to himself. It was a little like he was on an adventure.

He came to the tall, heavy door, with the plaque only reading  _ The Devil _ , and he felt a wave of hesitation wash over him. He’d never been in their boss’s office before, at least not since they first had their souls taken. Was he really about to waltz in here at 1:30 in the morning? Would he even be there? Mugman remembered that the alternative was going back to that quiet bedroom and lying awake staring at the ceiling until they had to get up for work, and suddenly talking to the Devil sounded more appealing.

He was about to knock, but instead he opened the door and walked straight in. There was the Devil, leaning back in his gilded throne. The Devil looked at his watchless wrist. “It’s 1:30 AM, what the hell do you want?”

“Uh, sorry, sir, am I disturbing you?” Mugman shrunk.

“Nah, I don’t sleep. Don’t need to. Actually, neither do you,” he smiled.

“I don’t?” Mugman asked quizzically.

The Devil ignored his question. “Anyway, like I asked, whaddya want, kid?”

“Kid?” Mugman wrinkled his nose. “I’m twenty-three years old, thank you very much.”

“Ha! That’s real cute, kid. Call me when you’re pushing twenty-three hundred, alright? Now, for the third time,  _ what do you want? _ ”

“Oh, r-right. Listen, I had a question for you. It’s something that’s been bothering me ever since I started working here. What....happens to the debtors? I mean, after we bring you their souls?” 

The Devil cackled. “That’s what’s been bugging you? Listen, to tell you the truth, they’re better off than you are, kid.”

“Huh?” Mugman was feeling less intimidated now, and had to remind himself that he was speaking with the literal Devil.

“I can only employ so many people, you know. I’ve got Dice running the casino. I’ve got you and your brother running around collecting souls for me, doing a hell of a lot better than the last dozen or so fools I had as reapers. I’ve got a few other people doing small jobs. But there’s only so many people I need on the Earth. The rest of the souls? They just hang around down there.”

“Down ‘there?’” Mugman asked.

“In Hell, o’course,” The Devil scoffed. “You ain’t too bright, are ya’?”

Mugman scowled. “I’m plenty smart, thanks.  _ You _ just need to spell things out a little better.”

He cackled again. “Sassing the Devil, I like it!”

“So, wait. You’re telling me that we’re collecting all these souls for you....and you aren’t doing anything with them?” Mugman furrowed his brow. “If you aren’t employing them, are you....torturing them?”

The Devil waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, haven’t been torturing anyone for awhile. Been in the  _ Slothful _ kinda mood the last few hundred years or so.”

“So they just sit around? In Hell? Doing nothing?”

“More or less, yeah! Would you like to see them?” he grinned.

Mugman hesitated, then answered, “Y-yeah. I want to know if they’re okay.”

The Devil waved his hand again, and what looked like a window materialized over the surface of his desk. Mugman peered down into it, and saw Cagney Carnation and the Root Pack playing cards together on a rocky surface of some kind. He heard a very distant, “Nope, Go Fish.”

“If you’re that worried about ‘em,” The Devil began, “I can let you down there to say hi sometime.”

“I would like that a lot. Thank you, sir.” Mugman bowed gratefully and hurried out of the office and back to his own room. It didn’t ease all of his worries, since all those people were still very much in Hell, but at least he knew they weren’t suffering too badly. Maybe he’d finally be able to get some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback and kudos on the first chapter! Comments are what encourage me to keep writing, so I appreciate the support.  
> This chapter starts off the Mugman B-plot. Since he mentions being 23 years old, I might as well add that Cup is 22.  
> See you next time!


	3. Where's Your Dumb Baby Brother At?

King Dice had had about enough of Cuphead smiling at him from across the room. Sure, he hadn’t actually been causing much trouble since the Craps table incident two nights ago, but the very act still induced a kind of primal fear in him that instantly had him expecting total disaster.

The other thing was that Cuphead wouldn’t stop leaving him notes underneath his drinks. It was like he wanted to chat but was too nervous to start a conversation so he resorted to giving awkward compliments on cocktail napkins. Cuphead wouldn’t even properly approach him about work-related issues.

_Hi Just wanted to let You know I like Your bowtie todaY it looks PrettY slick. -CuPhead._

_HeY we’re out of vodka for the record customers are comPlaining Just thouGht You should know. -CuPhead._

_Hi. -CuPhead._

Cuphead had never been shy by any means, whether he was turning in contracts or just reporting how things were going on the casino floor, but all of a sudden King Dice wasn’t hearing a word out of his mouth. What was his deal?

In any case, King Dice was getting awfully familiar with his terrible handwriting. He didn’t even have to ask Mugman to translate it for him anymore. The notes, however, were getting sloppier every time, and then he got one that he had to stare at for a solid minute to make sure he was reading it correctly - not because of the handwriting, but because of what it said.

_HeY are You married askinG for a friend. -CuPhead._

He squinted at it a few seconds longer, than saw Cuphead, once again, staring at him from across the room, grinning, only this time, he was waving. Mugman was staring, too- and he didn’t look pleased.

What the hell was going on?

Mugman hopped off of the barstool he was sitting on and walked stiffly up to King Dice. “Hello, sir.”

“Uh, hello, Mugman. Is there....something you need?”

“Hi, yeah, do you know at what point tonight my beloved younger brother Cuphead whom I would give my life for got _absolutely wasted_ and started writing you flirtatious notes?” Mugman asked, with uncharacteristic venom in his voice.

King Dice was a little unsure how to respond to that. “Is _that_ what’s happening?”

Mugman gave an exasperated sigh, as if he expected King Dice to know that. “Yes. He’s a complete idiot when he’s drunk, he’s fully aware of that, and he hates the taste of alcohol to begin with. Someone else must have given it to him.”

King Dice was about to say that Cuphead was a complete idiot all the time, but seeing Mugman’s expression, stopped himself. “Mugman,” he said, trying to keep his voice down so customers wouldn’t hear, “Now hold on a minute, don’t you forget that he’s _on shift._ You think I would have given him alcohol knowing he was dealing with customers? You’re smarter than that. It could have been someone else, but it for damn sure wasn’t me.”

Mugman sighed again, but it was more of a tired sigh. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know what his issue’s been lately. I just saw him over there scribbling all over napkins and giggling and staring at you.”

“Is it....normal for him to stop talking?”

“Yeah, his ability to speak coherently is the first thing to go. Trust me, reading his handwriting is actually easier than trying to understand what he’s saying.”

“In that case, it might be helpful for you to know that he hasn’t said a single word all night.”

Mugman furrowed his brow. “Did he start drinking as soon as we got back, then? _That’s_ not normal for him at all.”

“Your brother is terribly strange, Mug.”

“Do you think I don’t know-” From across the room, Cuphead tumbled out of a barstool, accompanied by the ugly sound of ceramic cracking.

King Dice jammed his hands in his pockets and pulled out a bill. “Look, here’s a fiver, just get him off the casino floor before people start walking out.”

“Will do, sir. And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t care how much he flirts with you; if I find out you two are _involved_ , we’ll be having some words. Just letting you know.”

* * *

 

Once again, it was past midnight and Mugman couldn’t sleep. Not because of nightmares, or even because of his stupid brother managing to drink himself unconscious without anyone noticing until the last second. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Devil’s offer from the night before.

Sure, he’d seen the debtors, and they seemed perfectly fine. But he wanted to talk to them. He wanted to know for sure that they were okay, wanted to know if they hated him. It wouldn’t hurt to slip out just one more time, would it?

After the embarrassment and worry his brother just put him through tonight, he thought bitterly, he deserved this. Mugman hopped out of bed and strode out into the hall, slamming the door a little harder than he intended.

He walked with more purpose than he did last night, finding himself outside the Devil’s office within a minute. Not hesitating for a moment, he flung the door open.

“If it isn’t Mugman, back to pester me some more. You been gettin’ those contracts, kid?”

“You’ve been receiving them, haven’t you?” Mugman shot back with a smile.

“Whaddya want this time?”

“You have to ask me that three times before I’ll answer; don’t you remember last night?” Mugman had realized pretty quickly after last time that the Devil enjoyed bantering. It functioned nicely as a shield, too - having nearly everything he said be covered up with a layer of sarcasm could protect him from accidentally saying something genuinely offensive.

“Real cute, kid. Is this about the debtors again?”

“Aww, you know me so well. You hiding a wedding ring in here somewhere?”

“Nice try, I’ll have you know I’m married.”

Mugman instantly forgot his snarky front. “Wait, _actually?_ ”

“Yeah, to hell!” The Devil cackled.

He felt like an idiot for falling for that, but only for a moment.

“- And also to that purple bastard you call a manager.”

Mugman couldn’t even force a laugh. He instantly recalled the image of Cuphead scrawling out _Are You married askinG for a friend. -CuPhead._ At the time, Mugman had thought that was the single dumbest question he’d ever heard - King Dice, _married?_ Suddenly, his pissy mood was replaced once more by worry for his brother. Had Cup been flirting with the Devil’s husband all night?

“O-oh, really?” Mugman asked. “Wow, I’d, uh, had no idea.”

“Yeah, thought it was obvious, but you ain’t so bright,” the Devil scoffed.

“No, just didn’t think you were the....marrying type, is all.”

“Why else would he be so loyal, did’ya think this was a strictly business operation we had goin’ on? Grow up.”

“Well....yeah, I kind of did.”

“But I digress, I’m sure you ain’t here to see our vacation slideshow. You’re here to see the debtors, am I right?”

Mugman was thankful for the topic change. “Yes, I am.”

The Devil snapped his fingers and a staircase leading down appeared in front of Mugman. This time, Mugman did hesitate.

“I’m not gonna get trapped down there, am I?”

“You think I’m gonna trap one of my reapers in Hell? You’re no use to me there. If anything, I’m going to be yanking you out if you get a little too comfy down there.”

The Devil was pretty good at making Mugman feel dumb sometimes. He gave a bow and began to descend the stairs.

It was a long, treacherous way down. There was no handrail, and the staircase went down so far you couldn’t see, passing through areas of pitch black where Mugman had to crouch down and feel for the next step to make sure he didn’t fall. He felt like he’d been walking down stairs forever by the time he saw the ground approaching.

Hell was, as one might have expected, desolate. Not covered in flames, at least not here, but more like a barren, dusty grey cavern with no end, dotted with enormous stalagmites rising from the flat ground. Mugman kept his head on a swivel as he descended the last few dozen stairs, but there were no debtors in sight. It was quiet, empty, lonely. He began to regret coming down here, but he hadn’t come down here for nothing. Shivering, he began to make his way through the cavern.

As he passed through the nondescript landscape, Mugman slowly realized how much time he spent indoors in the casino. As dense as the air was down here, as cold as it was, at least it felt like he was going somewhere on his own terms. Leaving to collect souls throughout the isles didn’t feel like going anywhere, not really. Not when you were going because the Devil told you to. Not when it was so likely you could die.

Mugman’s thoughts were interrupted by the echoing sound of a distant voice. Not wanting to lose track of it, he started running. His footsteps pounded on the dusty, hard ground as the voices grew closer and closer until he came to a clearing and skidded to a stop, greeted by the familiar sight of a tall, orange flower.

“Mugman?” Cagney asked aloud. His voice reverberated off the curved walls of rock surrounding the clearing.

Mugman nodded but didn’t say anything, just looked him over. He seemed about the same, maybe a little duller in color. Upon seeing where he was planted, however, Mugman couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“ _Oh my god_ , Cagney, you’re in a flowerpot!”

“Yeah! I know!” Cagney scowled, but he had his friendly face on, and looked a lot more silly than threatening as a result. “There’s hardly any soil down here, so we had to improvise, alright?”

Mugman looked at the solid ground. He hadn’t thought about that. He felt a little guilty for laughing now. “Hey, uh, listen, I’m sorry about....everything. Are you....angry at us?”

Cagney pressed a leaf to his cheek in thought. “Well, I _was_ , but. Not so much anymore, I guess. You aren’t stuck in Hell with the rest of us, but you’re still working for the Devil, so I s’pose it evens out. If you’d gotten off scot-free, you’d better believe I would have been mad, though.”

“That’s fair,” Mugman said. “Where’d you hear I was still working for the Devil?”

“From all the new people who end up down here every day.”

Mugman was quiet for a moment. “Oh. Are _they_ mad?”

“Oh, yeah, some of them are _furious_ . I would be careful walking around down here if I were you, I know of a good few dozen people who’d _love_ the chance to throttle you.” Cagney giggled. “What brings you here, anyhow?”

Mugman’s face got hot all of a sudden. “I....wanted to see you. And everyone else, too. I was worried.”

“Ugh, that’s just like you. You’re so sentimental, you know that? You’re the same exact dumb kid who was always too nice to me, even as a hitman for the Devil, ain’tcha?” Cagney stooped down, so he wouldn’t tower over his friend, and smiled. “Never change, ‘kay?”

Mugman smiled back. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He gave his old friend a quick hug, careful to avoid the thorns. “Where’s everyone else?”

“What, you think I know where everyone is all the time? I dunno, around?”

Mugman wasn’t sure he wanted to wander ‘around,’ especially not now that he knew there were people down here ready to fight him.

“Where’s your dumb baby brother at?” Cagney asked.

“Ugh, Cup. He’s in bed, passed out drunk.”

“Unsurprising. In bed? Is it nighttime at the surface? What month and year is it?”

Mugman felt another surge of pity for the people down here. With no sun, it was impossible just to keep track of the time. “Y....yeah. It’s October of 1931.”

“It’s been a year? That....doesn’t seem right. But you should bring him down here next time,” Cagney said.

“Uh, I’ll think about it.” Mugman was feeling a little unwilling to share, for once.

“Alright, kid,” a voice suddenly boomed from everywhere and nowhere, “It’s gettin’ early. Wrap up your little reunion, would ya’?”

“Uh, that’ll be the Devil,” Mugman said. “How am I gonna get back up there?” he shouted back.

“Take the elevator, it’s right around the corner.”

“The fucking **_what?_ ** ”

“Same ol’ sentimental, _dumb_ Mugman,” Cagney grinned. “That’s what he does to everyone their first time around the block. You think the Devil bothers with stairs when he comes down here?”

Did everyone know everything about everything except for Mugman? Bitterly, he waved goodbye to Cagney, stepped around the corner, and punched the button on the stupid dumb elevator that for some ungodly reason was planted right in the face of a wall of rock. It opened up, he stepped inside, and waited out the five minute long ride back up to the Devil’s office.

Despite everything, he was happy. He got to go somewhere on his own. He got to meet his friend again. _Just one more time won’t hurt,_ he’d thought before he came here, but he was starting to feel confident that this wouldn’t be the last.

“Really?” he asked at the top.

“Cry me a river, it was funny. An’ everyone falls for it.”

“Not the elevator, but I’m mad about that, too, for the record. I was down there for like, twenty minutes. You said you’d only make me come back up if I was taking too long,” Mugman pouted.

“Kid, it’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“What? No way, that’s impossible.”

“Your brain’s used to surface time, not hell time. It flows faster down there.”

“Time flows faster down there,” Mugman repeated dully. “I don’t....”

“Look, an eternity in Hell is more bearable for the poor schmucks down there when it’s a faster eternity.”

Though Mugman couldn’t really wrap his head around the idea of a ‘fast eternity,’ trying to make it ‘more bearable’ for the people in Hell was awfully merciful of the Devil. But that reminded Mugman of another question he’d had for awhile.

“Sir? What happens to my brother and me when we die?” Mugman’s voice was suddenly barely above a whisper.

“ _When_ you die?” The Devil burst out laughing. “Kid, didn’t you know? You’re already dead!”

* * *

 

Cuphead woke up with a start when he heard the door slam. As soon as he sat up he felt pain splitting his head. God, he knew he couldn’t handle alcohol, what the hell had he been thinking?

He looked over to Mugman’s side of the room, but the silhouette of his bed was flat. It must have been him who’d just slammed the door. Something felt terribly wrong.

Cuphead stumbled out of bed, attempting to ignore the throbbing pain of his hangover headache, and opened the door just in time to see Mugman rounding the corner of the hallway.

“Mugs?” he said, too quiet to hear. A little slowly, thanks to his poor coordination at the moment, he followed to where he saw Mugman turn the corner, but by the time he reached it, Mugman was nowhere to be seen. Where was he going? The casino floor, maybe?

The casino floor was dark and empty. Seeing a place that was always so lively being utterly devoid of people was creepy. Not to mention, still no Mugman. He was awfully fast when you could only kind of remember how to walk.

Cuphead was in the middle of deciding whether to keep searching and risk passing out in the middle of the floor or just go back to bed when he noticed the dim light over the casino bar on the far side of the room. Sitting there was - he squinted - King Dice?

Forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be finding out what his brother was up to, Cuphead approached the bar and tapped on King Dice’s shoulder.

King Dice yelped and dropped his cigar on the floor in the process. “Cuphead? What the hell are you doing up?”

Cuphead stared at him for a solid ten seconds and it was probably pretty creepy, but he was trying to think of a snappy reply. It unfortunately stops being a snappy reply after around the three second mark, however. “I could, uh, ask you the same question.”

“I’m not the one who passed out from drinking on the job, here, Cup.” Damn, he had a point.

“Yeah, I’m real sorry about that,” Cuphead said, pushing himself up onto a barstool. “I’ll tell you what happened if you tell me what _you’re_ doing out here.”

King Dice picked his cigar up off the ground, frowned at it, and flicked it into an ashtray. “I get into moods sometimes where I like to sit in dim lighting and think about my problems. Running a casino’s a stressful business, ‘specially when the Devil’s the proprietor.”

“I don’t think that’s the whole truth, but I’ll take it,” Cuphead said, eyeing the bottle of Everclear on the counter and the shot glass next to it.

“You’re perceptive,” King Dice smiled wryly. “A few more shots and I might tell you some more.”

Cuphead was quiet for a few moments. “Mugman almost died today.”

“What?”

“It was my fault, I was being stupid and reckless while we were fighting a debtor and he pushed me out of the way at the last second.” Cuphead put his head down on the counter.

“No, no, you’re saying he almost _died?_ ”

“Yeah?” Cuphead lifted his head up and looked at King Dice quizzically.

“Cuphead, you know there’s no risk of either of you dyin’ on the job, right?”

“What?”

“Cup, you can’t die when you’re both already dead, at least, not really.”

“ _What?_ ” Cuphead repeated, eyes wide.

King Dice looked terribly concerned now. “You’ve gone _this whole time_ without knowing?”

“I don’t understand, not knowing what?”

“When the Devil takes your soul, you die, and if he puts you back on the Earth, that means he’s brought you back as one of his demons. You didn’t know?”

“Mugman and I are demons now?” Cuphead whispered in horror.

“Didn’t you- didn’t you notice how your teeth got sharp and your eyes turned red?” King Dice asked.

“I thought the Devil was just really into his aesthetic, I didn’t think he _murdered us_ and brought us back as demons!”

Cuphead was getting hysterical. Fishing for something comforting to say, King Dice offered, “I mean, it’s a good thing for you, isn’t it? You can still get hurt and feel pain, but even if you, I dunno, dissolved in acid, you’d come back just fine soon enough.”

“That’s _terrifying_ , thanks. You don’t get it at all, do you?” Cuphead said quietly. “I thought we were working for the Devil for the rest of our lives, not the rest of _forever_. I can’t even understand that long of a time, that’s....when the sun burns out, we’ll still be here. All because I lost a dice roll. Death would have been much better.”

“I’ll still be here, too, y’know.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Why do you think I’m out here by myself at 1 in the morning?” King Dice smiled.

Cuphead made grabby hands at the shot glass, which King Dice slid away from him. “I think you’ve had enough. Didn’t your brother say you hate the taste of alcohol? How did you get so drunk immediately after you got back?”

“Mixing hard liquor with fruit juice and being _really_ mad at myself. It feels like it was all for nothing, now, though, now that I know he wasn’t in any real danger.”

“Dying’s no fun, even temporarily. Trust me on that one. You should avoid it just as much as you would if you didn’t know you’d come back.”

“Didn’t you just say I’d come back _fine_ a minute ago?”

“I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Well, not telling me the whole truth is probably why I’ve been a demon for a whole year and didn’t know it, so I’d appreciate it if you’d knock that off,” Cuphead snapped.

“Understood.”

Cuphead was quiet for a little once again. “How long have you been here?”

“Dunno. You stop bothering with counting the years after a little while of coming to terms that you’re here forever. But for the record, you and your brother being around has made things quite a bit more interesting. For awhile, it was mostly just the Devil and me.”

Cuphead grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the lamplight. “Aww, are you sayin’ you _like_ _us?_ ” He punched King Dice’s arm.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” King Dice smiled. “You’re good workers. For the most part, anyhow.”

“Man, whether or not we’re good at murdering people or waiting tables ain’t a basis for liking us, I thought you meant our personalities.”

“Well, that’s a bit more complicated. By all accounts, I shouldn’t be able to _stand_ you, since your personality consists of ‘huge pain who ruins my day at least once a week,’ but I’m finding that I’ve taken a liking to you anyway. And ah, don’t tell anyone I said that, I’ve got a reputation to keep up.”

“Won’t tell a soul, sir,” Cuphead saluted, then turned in the other direction and giggled under his breath, “Hehe, you like me.” He was still drunk, wasn’t he?

“Does your brother know you’re up?”

Cuphead gasped. “My brother! I saw him sneaking out of the room, he’s why I was out in the first place!”

King Dice cocked an eyebrow. “Mugman, sneaking around? Doesn’t sound much like him. Then again, he’s been acting mighty strange lately, too. He’s awfully protective of you, y’know. He was damn close to biting my head off after that incident earlier. Thought I had something to do with it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cuphead sighed. “But you haven’t seen him go by?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“In that case, I should probably just....go back to bed. Work tomorrow, and all.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Cuphead hopped off the barstool. “And, uh....thanks for listening to me.” He gave King Dice a quick hug and scurried off through the back door.

King Dice couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, so I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I actually created the illustration towards the beginning before I ever published the first chapter, so I'm glad I finally got to use it. I hope to do some more illustrations for future and previous chapters, but I don't want it to affect how quickly I get them out.  
> By the way, today, November 5, is also my 19th birthday!


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